


It's Got Me On My Knees

by shiningartifact



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Established Relationship, Facials, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-20
Updated: 2011-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiningartifact/pseuds/shiningartifact
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge-era Tour AU. Frank is sick but won't admit it. Gerard just wants to take care of him, but Frank isn't having it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Got Me On My Knees

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [yobrothatssick](http://yobrothatssick.livejournal.com/) 2011 challenge, prompt 23. Thanks to the mods for all the work they did creating and running the challenge. Thanks, as ever, to [swiiftly](http://swiiftly.livejournal.com/) and [desfinado](http://desfinado.livejournal.com/) for their support and encouragement. So much thanks to [desfinado](http://desfinado.livejournal.com/) for being an incredibly thorough and patient beta. ♥

Gerard is sitting at the table with his chin in his hand, staring out the window at the bank of long grass on the side of the road as the scenery whizzes by. He's thinking about crop circles and aliens when Frank sneezes twice in rapid succession. Gerard looks up as Frank blearily grabs a napkin to blow his nose.

"Dude, watch where you're pointing that thing," Mikey says, getting up from the bench seat and swinging around to sit by Gerard instead. "I don't want your germs, Typhoid Mary." Frank's still blowing his nose but manages to flip Mikey off at the same time.

Gerard grins. Frank's got _skills_. He says, "Hey, you sneezed yesterday too." He pauses. "And this morning! I heard you, in your bunk." His brow furrows, and he peers closely at Frank's face. "You're not getting sick, are you?"

Frank rolls his eyes. "Jesus, Gee. I sneezed. Twice. I don't think we need to call the CDC." He smirks, putting down the napkin, and then his eyes widen and his face contorts.

"What the fuck, Frank. Are you having a stroke?" Gerard stands up halfway, reaching his arms out, even though he has no idea what you're supposed to do if someone has a stroke. Shit, he should probably look that up.

Frank shakes his head and then sneezes again, a huge one this time. He blows his nose, glaring down at the table. "I'm fine," he says firmly.

"Are you sure?" Gerard stands up for real this time, pressing up against Mikey until his brother moves to the side to let him out. "I think—I'm pretty sure—" He starts opening and closing all of the cabinets in the tiny tour bus kitchen. "A-ha," he exclaims, reaching all the way into one of the cabinets and grabbing a can of Campbell's he'd seen earlier. "Soup. If you're getting sick, you should totally have some." He sets it down on the counter and looks over at Frank. "I'll make it for you." He pulls one of the big plastic bowls they use for cereal out of the cabinet.

"Gee, seriously. I'm fine. I don't need soup." Frank throws away the crumpled, snotty napkin and stands up, grabbing a box of pop tarts from the counter.

Gerard reads the back of the can. "Okay. I just need to add two cans of water. Perfect."

"I'm completely fine. Don't worry about it." Frank opens the box and pulls out a pack of pop tarts.

Gerard puts the can down. "It's no trouble, and it's good for you." He grabs a plastic spoon from the drawer. "It's vegetables! And like, broth and stuff. It'll only take a couple minutes."

"I don't need soup." Frank sits back down, hunching his shoulders, tearing open the packet and stuffing a pop tart in his mouth. "I'm not sick," he mumbles, a few crumbs flying out. "And I've got pop tarts."

Gerard is already opening the drawers and peering into each one in turn. "What the fuck? Why are there cans but no fucking can opener?"

"Stop." The sharp note in Frank's voice is unmistakable. "I don't want the fucking soup."

Gerard's shoulders sink and he stands up slowly, one drawer still hanging open. "Okay." He slides the drawer closed quietly. "I'm just going to hang out for a while," he gestures at the bunks and heads back to his, lying down and pulling the curtain closed.

He grabs his iPod and is untangling the headphones when he hears Mikey say, "That was harsh. He just wanted to help."

He strains to hear Frank's mumbled response, "I know, just, I'm not sick, okay? He doesn't have to take care of me."

Gerard sighs, putting in the headphones. He picks a Portishead album and hits play, lying back and turning up the volume as loud as he can stand.

~~~

Gerard wakes up when the bus comes to a jolting halt. He pulls his headphones out, disoriented, like he always is when he wakes up on the bus. He pokes his head out of the curtain and sees Mikey walking toward him.

"We're at a rest stop. Want to get a snack or something?" Mikey leans against the bunks on the other side of the little hallway.

"Yeah, okay." Gerard wrestles with his iPod and the blanket and gets his feet on the floor. He shuffles over to his shoes and slips them on, not bothering to tie them.

"He was being a jerk," Mikey says quietly. "I love the little fucker, but he can't deal with being sick at all."

Gerard looks at the floor. "He didn't want soup. I was being pushy."

"You were being nice." Mikey puts his arm around Gerard's shoulders. "And a little pushy. But mostly nice."

Gerard rubs his eyes and shakes his head. "It's just." He leans against Mikey a little. "It's never just a cold with him. It's always fucking bronchitis or pneumonia or some shit."

Mikey sighs. "Yeah. I know."

"I can't help it. I'm worried. When he was sick before, I didn't—" He takes a breath and lets it out slowly. "I was too fucked up." He catches Mikey's eye. "You know?"

Mikey's eyebrows draw together a little, and he bumps his shoulder lightly against Gerard's. "C'mon. I'll buy you Ho-Hos."

Gerard sniffles and cracks a smile. "Maybe some Cheetos?"

"You got it."

~~~

In the rest stop convenience store, Mikey totally abandons him to go look through the music magazines, and Gerard ends up pouting down at the Tastykake rack in front of him, halfheartedly picking things up and putting them down again. He glances up at Mikey's back and sighs, about to head over to join him, when he feels someone pressing up behind him from shoulder blades to thighs.

He stiffens for a second until Frank's tattooed hand snakes around his waist and grabs one of the packages. "Tastykake? Mmm. Chemically delicious."

Gerard's looking dumbly down at the cherry pie in Frank's hand when a bright blue stuffed fish with huge eyes pokes its head around his right shoulder. The fish says, "Frank wanted me to tell you that he's sorry."

Gerard grins down at the fish. "Yeah? Tell him that I just cried in my bunk while listening to Portishead." He pats the fish on the head. "You're cute and all, but that's a handjob-level apology." The fish jerks back a few inches and then retreats. He laughs, and Frank presses up tighter against his back. Gerard sees the fish go flying back into the bin at the other end of the aisle, and Frank's hand slips back around his waist. This time he spreads his palm on Gerard's stomach, pulling him closer, his pinky dipping underneath the waistband of his jeans.

Frank leans around him and puts his lips against Gerard's ear. "Think you're selling yourself short. I made you cry. That's a blowjob-level apology for sure." Gerard's cock twitches in his pants and he feels a little shudder of excitement in his chest. He ducks his head down, putting his hand over Frank's. Frank pulls away a little and looks up at him. "I am sorry, you know."

Gerard relaxes back against Frank's body and rolls his head so that his face is way too close, his eyelashes brushing Frank's cheek. "I know."

"Awesome." Frank grabs his arm and pulls him toward the back of the store. "Now let me show you."

Frank drags him, pausing once to push Gerard up against a rack of Cool Ranch Doritos and cop a quick feel, until they're safely on the other side of the locked bathroom door. He presses Gerard up against it, his hands pinning Gerard's on either side of his shoulders. Gerard moans and leans his head back against the door. Fuck. He's so easy for Frank. Frank's not even touching him anywhere else yet, and he's already hard. He ducks down to catch Frank's mouth with his own, but Frank steps back a little, out of the way.

"Not yet." He grins while undoing Gerard's pants with one hand. "You can kiss me after." Gerard giggles, his heart pounding. He's never been with someone who dragged him into bathrooms and alleyways to fuck before. It makes him feel wanted and wanton, makes him look for semi-hidden spots in every public place they go, just in case. Frank tugs Gerard's pants down as far as they'll go and then lets go of Gerard's other hand as he sinks to his knees.

"Oh fuck, Frank," Gerard moans, watching him go down. They've been doing this—fucking around, whatever it is—for two months now (sixty-eight days, not that Gerard is counting), and the sight of Frank on his knees never fails to make Gerard feel a little weak. He just folds up so easily—looks somehow _right_ in that position—bruised knees showing through the stretched holes in his jeans, denim pulled tight across the muscles in his thighs.

The air conditioning is cool on Gerard's exposed skin, and he can feel Frank's hot breath on his thigh. He's working Gerard's briefs down, and he pauses to grab Gerard's ass. Gerard squeaks and then rolls his eyes at himself. Always the smooth one. He looks down, feeling too pale and exposed in the harsh fluorescent lights and watches as Frank runs his hands up his sides, squirming when it starts to tickle. Frank grips his hips tighter then, and he leans down and kisses along the crease between Gerard's body and thigh. His mouth feels so fucking hot in the cool air, and Gerard lets his eyes slide closed.

Frank does the same on the other side and then pushes up Gerard's t-shirt and kisses his navel. Gerard makes an involuntary noise that becomes a sucked-in breath as Frank trails his tongue lower, teasing slowly downward until he finally wraps his hand around the base of Gerard's cock and licks up the underside all the way to the tip. He pauses there, and Gerard opens his eyes to the sight of Frank looking up at him, his hand gripping Gerard's cock at the base, the head of his dick just resting on Frank's slick tongue. It feels incredible and overwhelming and not nearly enough, and Gerard has to concentrate hard to keep his hips completely still.

Frank makes him wait, drool sliding from his open mouth down Gerard's cock, before finally ducking his head and taking Gerard in. Gerard moans again, loud this time, and it echoes off of the bathroom walls. His head hits the door hard when Frank starts to stroke him, Frank's fingers sliding easy and tight over his wet cock. Gerard's eyelids flutter and his focus shifts wildly from point to point. He's breathing fast and hard and brings his hand up unconsciously to twist in his own hair. He spends a while just watching his dick slide in and out of Frank's red mouth, just feeling Frank work him over steadily. He feels like he's zoning out, just riding the tight hot slide.

He reaches down and slides his hand into Frank's hair and around to the back of his head. He tries so fucking hard not to pull Frank closer, but he can't help it. Frank responds immediately, pushing back a little against his hand, letting Gerard pull him in further on his cock. He looks up at Gerard, his mouth stretched tight, tongue working, and he slides his forearm up to press Gerard's hips against the door and then moans low in his throat.

"Holy—fucking—shit," Gerard spits out in a whisper. He can feel it everywhere, and his hips jerk forward, but Frank's holding him down. He sucks Gerard's cock in again, hand still pumping, and now Gerard's hand is desperately clutching at Frank's hair. His breath is out of control, he's panting hard and fast, and he can feel it building deep in his belly—he's nearly fucking there.

"Frank," he says, his voice desperate, almost pleading, and then his orgasm slams through him and he's coming so hard that his knees start to buckle. He catches his breath and then slides down the door, grabbing Frank and kissing him deep and dirty.

Someone rattles the door handle, and their eyes fly to the lock, but it holds and the door doesn't open. "Gee? You in there? We gotta go. Can't find Frank either."

They look at each other, matching guilty grins on their faces. "Uh, hey, Ray." Gerard tries to make his voice less squeaky. "Frank is, um, in here too?"

"Is he okay?" Ray sounds concerned, and then he pauses and says, "Aw, jeez. Never mind. Just get to the bus, okay?"

"Sorry, dude," Frank calls, "we'll be there in a minute," and then he's ducking down and kissing Gerard again, deep, sliding his tongue along Gerard's. Gerard promptly forgets about the bus, leaning into the kiss and cupping Frank's jaw. He's sliding his hand down Frank's chest, Frank moaning softly into his mouth when there's another knock on the door. They break apart abruptly.

"Sir? Is everything okay? Some other customers are waiting to use the restroom."

"Shit," Frank whispers, grinning, "busted." He sighs and stands up, reaching down to help pull Gerard to his feet. "I'm fine. Be out in a minute," he calls through the door. Gerard pulls up his underwear and pants and watches Frank adjust his jeans to hide his hard-on, sneezing twice in a row, rapid-fire.

Gerard feels his brow furrowing, and Frank sneezes again. "Shit, Frank, what if I gave you, like, dick flu or something."

Frank cracks up, grabbing a paper towel to blow his nose. "Dick flu. Yep. Totally. Maybe we actually should call the CDC. This could go global."

Gerard rolls his eyes. "Okay, fine. It's not dick flu. But—"

"Gee, I'm fine," Frank says, and steps to the door to open it.

Gerard does one last mirror-check. "Hey, what do you mean it could go global?" He puts his sunglasses back on and walks out with Frank. "Are you saying I'm some kind of blowjob ho?" Frank snickers and goes to the shelves, grabbing two bags of Cheetos and a cherry pie and going up to the counter. Gerard grins and follows him. "Hey, Cheetos! How did you know I wanted those?"

"Oh I know what you like, baby," Frank says, waggling his eyebrows.

Gerard laughs. "You really fucking do, actually." They're next in line, and Gerard looks around the store happily. He leans over to whisper, "Sorry I didn't get you off. I wanted to."

Frank grins and grabs a box of tissues from a nearby display. "It's cool. I'll come up with an ingenious way for you to make it up to me." He sniffles and then gives Gerard a warning look immediately after. "In the meantime, I'll just jerk off in my bunk." He holds up the box of tissues. "See? Reinforcements. Probably need a new box by morning."

Gerard snorts and rolls his eyes. "You're hilarious."

Frank pulls a serious face and says, "I never joke about jerking off," just as they get to the counter.

The guy at the register concentrates very hard on ringing up their items, and Gerard snorts and turns around, leaning on the counter. "Way to be subtle, Frankie."

Frank just giggles and hands over his money.

~~~

On the bus, Ray avoids their eyes until Frank takes a flying leap onto the couch and ends up sprawled across his body, grinning up at his surprised face. "C'mon, Toro. You know you love me." He opens his mouth in a huge grin and his eyes go super-wide. He looks like a deranged South Park character, and Gerard still wants to fuck him 'til he can't see straight. He smirks, watching Ray look down at Frank in his lap and then finally laugh and shove him off onto the floor.

"Yeah, okay. At least it wasn't on the bus," Ray says. He looks over at Gerard and then down at Frank, sprawled at his feet. "The rule still stands, right?" He sounds a little desperate. "No sex on the bus, right?"

Frank gives Ray a reassuring grin and pats him on the knee. "No sex on the bus, Ray. Don't worry." He sneezes again, and Gerard looks sharply down at him. Frank reaches for the plastic bag and opens the Kleenex box. He throws a bag of Cheetos to Gerard.

Gerard watches him blow his nose yet again but doesn't say anything. He cracks open the Cheetos and crunches one down before offering the bag to Ray.

~~~

An hour later, Ray is working on tracks in the back studio and everyone else is in the bunks. Mikey's already snoring lightly, and Gerard can hear the tinny blare of metal coming from Bob's headphones above him. He's lying on his back, listening to Frank shuffle around in the bunk directly across from his. Gerard can picture him twisting his feet in the blanket trying to achieve the perfect combination of warmth and ventilation. Gerard knows that he usually sleeps curled up on his side, but if he's really jerking off, he's probably on his back right now.

The sounds stop abruptly and Gerard pictures Frank, naked to the waist, tattoos spotting his chest and belly, his right arm sliding down to grip his cock and stroke himself tightly. A few moments later, Gerard hears a low moan and sucks in an involuntary breath, then giggles a little, because it was pretty fucking loud. Sure enough, a second later he hears a low laugh come from across the way.

"Shut up, Iero," he whispers.

"Stop listening to me touch my dick, then," Frank says in a low voice.

Gerard grins at the ceiling of his bunk. "Oh baby, I can't help myself," he says with exaggerated breathiness.

Frank is quiet for a moment and then whispers, "Not a problem for me." Frank's voice catches on the last word, and Gerard lets out a tiny groan at the mental image of Frank touching himself while he's whispering to Gerard.

Frank is quiet, then, and Gerard curls up on his side facing the curtain. He imagines that he's got x-ray vision, can see through both curtains to watch Frank in the other bunk. He grins at that and lets his breath out in a small sigh. A moment later he hears an answering sigh from across the way. His heart speeds up. Frank is listening to him, too. His dick twitches a little at the thought, but he ignores it and concentrates on Frank. Just as a test, he breathes out a low moan, barely audible. A few seconds later, he hears Frank moan too. _Fuck_ , he thinks. That's really fucking hot.

It's quiet for a bit, and he lies there imagining what Frank looks like right now: bottom lip in his teeth, tattooed fingers wrapped around his cock, slick with lube. Maybe his other hand is pinching a nipple, or down between his legs, touching his balls. Maybe he's thrusting up into his own slick fist by now. Gerard closes his eyes and trails his hand down his side. It doesn't feel like much through his layers of clothes, but there's a strip of naked skin where his hoodie and t-shirt are rucked up. When his fingers hit bare skin, he gasps and slides his hand over his belly and under his pajama pants. He hears a small gasp come from Frank's bunk, followed by a sucked-in breath. He's about to slide his hand to his cock, deciding he wants to jerk off after all, when he hears a huge sneeze from across the way.

"Motherfucker." Frank sounds strung out and desperate, still whispering. "Fuck it." Gerard keeps still, listening as Frank comes, loud breaths replacing his usual moans. Gerard's thinking about how cool it is that he knows all of Frank's orgasm faces now when Frank sneezes again and then sighs. He blows his nose loud and fast.

Gerard smirks, pulling his hand out of his pants and fumbling around for his iPod. "Goodnight Frank," he whispers.

He hears more rustling across the way, and then a hand picks up the edge of his curtain. He can see Frank reaching across the little hallway, his shoulders sticking out of his bunk. "'Night, Gee." Frank sighs again. "It's just allergies, you know."

"I didn't say a word." He looks innocently at Frank. "Get some sleep, okay?" He curls up on his side again, facing Frank, and puts in his headphones. Frank starts to pull back, and the last thing Gerard sees before the curtain drops is Frank winking at him. He grins, changes the music, and pushes play.

~~~

The next day, Gerard is the last to wake up. He'd had terrible dreams that kept him up most of the night and hadn't gotten to sleep until seven-thirty. He crawls out of the bunk, bleary and unsteady on his feet, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He looks at Frank's bunk and pulls back the curtain. Frank isn't there, but there is a mound of used tissues lining the back wall.

"Ew," Gerard says, and idly wonders if they're filled with jizz or snot. Oh god, or both. He backs away, shaking his head, and goes to take a piss.

~~~

They're onstage between songs and Gerard is back at the drum riser, stealing a quick drink of water. He's also watching Frank, as he has been all night. Frank doesn't seem sick—not exactly. He's hitting his parts and singing the backing vocals just as vehemently as always. He just seems to deflate a little between songs. He's got bottles of water lined up on his side of the riser and has been steadily making his way through them as the show goes on.

Gerard is still worried, but he shakes it off and turns back to the front of the stage, thrusting his arm in the air and popping his hip, posing as the many-headed beast of the crowd screams back. He looks over at Frank, force of habit, and Frank is standing with his hands clasped behind his back, head down and guitar to the side. Gerard stares at him for a bit, until Frank finally looks over and raises his eyebrows. Gerard immediately snaps to and starts gearing the crowd up for Prison. He frowns a little before shaking his head again and starting to slide his hand slowly down his body in front of hundreds of people.

~~~

As soon as they finish their encore, they file offstage, happy and sated as usual. Frank gives Gerard a weird look when they get back to the dressing room, but he just grabs his stuff and heads straight into the shower. Gerard flops down on the ratty couch and looks plaintively up at Mikey, who is standing at the mirror fixing his hair.

Mikey meets his gaze. "What happened, before Prison? That was like, dead air."

Gerard sighs. "I think he's getting sick and he's not telling anyone."

"Isn't that his business, though?" Mikey raises his eyebrows a little. "I mean, I know you guys are all," he makes a weird gesture with his hands, "but like, you're not married. Or whatever." He turns away from his reflection and sits next to Gerard on the couch. "He can do what he wants, right?"

Gerard lifts his hands and then drops them again when he can't figure out what to say. "I don't know. Yeah, of course. It's just. He gets mad when I try to take care of him. And I don't know what to do. 'Cause the thing is, it's my turn. You know?" He looks down at his hands, which he's basically wringing in his lap. "He—you _all_ —took care of me for all that time. I just want to," he trails off and they're quiet for a few seconds, "make it right."

Mikey turns to look at him. "He never said that, did he? That you have to make it right?"

"No, no, of course not. This is my thing." He shifts uncomfortably on the couch and then gives up and puts his head on Mikey's shoulder. It's bony as fuck, but that doesn't matter at all right now. His voice is barely a whisper as he confesses, "I think I might be in love with him, Mikes." He can feel his heart thumping in his chest. He's never even said that to himself.

Mikey doesn't say anything, and at first Gerard isn't sure that he heard him at all. Then he feels Mikey rest his head against his own, some of his hair falling in Gerard's face and tickling his forehead. "Well, shit."

"Yeah." His voice is small, and he snuggles further into Mikey's unforgiving shoulder.

Mikey shifts a little under Gerard. "Does he—"

"I don't think so. I mean." Gerard sighs. "I don't know."

He can actually hear the eye-roll in Mikey's voice as he replies, "Oh my god, are you serious right now? He fucking worships you, dude." Gerard is quiet. It's not that he's not happy to hear it, but he can't help but listen to the whole chorus of voices in his own head telling him that someone like Frank could never actually fall for him. "You said it wouldn't affect the band though, Gee. You can't be freaking out in the middle of a show." Mikey lifts his head up but swings his arm across Gerard's shoulders instead. "Just let him take care of himself, if that's what he wants."

"Okay, Mikes." Gerard looks down again. "Sorry." He buries his face in Mikey's arm, breathing in show sweat and that very particular Mikey smell. It's comforting, if not exactly pleasant.

Mikey squeezes his shoulders. "Dude. Don't be so sad. The show was awesome, Frank's fine, and you're maybe in love—"

"Shhhh!" Gerard hisses, lifting his head up and looking toward the bathroom door. It's still closed, but he listens for the shower and can't hear it anymore. "You can't tell anyone, Mikey. Seriously. Nobody."

"I was just trying to get you to stop being such a sad fucking panda." He punches Gerard's arm lightly. Gerard makes a noise and rubs the spot anyway. "Things are pretty good, right?"

Gerard thinks about Frank's stupid South Park grin and his orgasm faces and grins down at his lap. "Yeah. Pretty fucking good."

Frank emerges from the bathroom, wet hair slicked back and a towel over one shoulder. He's wearing low-slung jeans and nothing else. He catches Gerard staring and smiles slow and wide. "'Sup, bitches."

~~~

Ten minutes later, Frank has Gerard pressed up against yet another door, but this time it's a closet at the venue. Frank's still shirtless and damp from the shower, and he smells like Irish Spring soap. Gerard bends down and licks up the side of Frank's neck, sucking a kiss behind his ear hard enough to bruise. Frank's neck feels so warm and at first, Gerard appreciates it. The venue is air-conditioned to within an inch of its life, and he's been freezing since the stage sweat dried. But then he starts to think about it. Maybe Frank is too warm. Like, fever-warm.

Gerard pulls back and snakes his hand up to feel Frank's forehead. It does feel hot, but Gerard can't tell if it's scary-hot or just normal. Frank grabs his hand and pulls it down, lacing their fingers together. "Gee, stop, okay? I'm fucking fine."

"Okay." Frank leans up to kiss him again, pressing Gerard into the door with his hips. "Sorry."

Frank is already hard against his thigh, and Gerard grinds his hips forward, making them both moan. "Fuck. How much time do we have?" Gerard's voice is breathy and a little higher than usual.

"Plenty. I think they just started breaking down the stage." Frank's sliding his hand down to cup Gerard's cock through his pants, and Gerard just lets him, lets his head fall forward onto Frank's shoulder, presses up into his touch. "God, you feel so fucking good," Frank says, low and dirty in Gerard's ear.

Gerard presses forward with his hips one more time and then reaches down and catches Frank's hand in his. "Hold on a second, okay?" He straightens up and steps to the side, coming up behind Frank and pushing him face-first into the door with his body. Frank catches himself with his forearms and presses back against Gerard.

"What—what're you," Frank whispers.

"There's something I've been wanting to do." He slides an arm across Frank's chest. "Is it okay if I try something?" To his surprise, he sounds calm and confident. In reality, his heart's trying to pound out of his chest.

"Anything," Frank says immediately. "How do you want me?"

He stops for a second, savoring the words. "Just like that." He slips his thumbs under the waistband of Frank's jeans and opens them, gets them all the way down and pulls them off one leg. Frank's not wearing any fucking underwear, which is just. Well. Fuck.

He slides up against Frank's back, pressing his hard dick against Frank's naked ass, and Frank shivers against him. Gerard lets out a little moan and grinds against Frank again before taking a breath and reminding himself that he has a plan. He forces himself to step back a bit and starts kissing down Frank's spine, pausing to lightly bite his sides, tonguing away the sting of the bites as he goes.

Frank squirms under him, and Gerard stops to stroke Frank's cock a few times, running his thumb across the head. He sucks in a breath when he feels it slick with precome—he fucking loves how turned on Frank gets, knowing that it's because of him. He lets out a little pleased hum and goes back to biting and licking down Frank's body.

He slips his hands down over Frank's ass and between his legs, gently touching his balls. He kneels slowly, and Frank moans above him. He leans over and kisses the top of Frank's thigh, feels Frank jerk a little under his mouth and slides his hands up to his ass. He waits there for a second, heart beating fast. He's ridiculously hard in his pants, and Frank is naked and waiting for him, and it's making it hard to think straight. Frank's breathing is fast and loud, and he lets out a little whine. Gerard grins at that and then noses forward and licks a long stripe from just behind Frank's balls to his ass. Frank shudders and gasps, "Fuck, Gerard. Oh _fuck_ ," above him.

Gerard's tongue runs everywhere, teasing, and it's fucking incredible and intimate—even more than giving a blowjob. He plants his knees more firmly on the cement floor and presses the flat of his tongue against Frank's ass. He holds there for a second and then slips the tip of his tongue inside Frank, and the reaction is immediate. "Oh fuck. Fuck _me_. I can't—I just— _yeah_ ," he moans, pressing back against Gerard's tongue almost desperately. " _Fuck_ , yeah."

Gerard moans and keeps fucking Frank slowly with his tongue. Frank keeps talking—babbling, really—a steady stream of moans and curses and aborted attempts to say Gerard's name. Gerard is breathing harder, can feel his cock straining against his zipper. He's so turned on that he's seeing actual stars behind his closed eyelids. He's never felt this powerful with Frank, this much in charge, and it's fucking intoxicating.

He reaches around to get his fist around Frank's cock, but Frank is already there, jacking himself hard and fast. Gerard keeps flicking his tongue in and around, hard and then soft, and finally he feels Frank's body start to draw up and tighten around him. He presses in, doesn't stop moving his tongue until finally Frank shouts—really fucking loud—and comes all over the fucking door.

Gerard rocks back onto his heels and catches his breath, a huge grin on his face. Frank turns around, breathing hard and leaning heavily against the door. Gerard can see his thighs shaking a little. "Oh my god, Gerard. Oh my _god_." He looks down at Gerard, dazed. " _That_ was the thing you just wanted to try?"

Gerard frowns a little. "Was it—it was okay, right?" Maybe you were supposed to ask someone before you stick your tongue in their ass. The Wikipedia article on rimming hadn't had an etiquette section.

Frank's reaching down to grab his jeans, and he stops short to look at Gerard. "Are you serious, you dork?" He slides down so that he's face-to-face with Gerard. "That was the most amazing thing I've—just," he pauses for a second and then grabs Gerard's wrist, "it was really really really fucking okay. Like, you are welcome to do that every day for the rest of our lives if you want. Okay?" Gerard looks down at Frank's tattooed fingers circling his wrist and nods, a little smile on his face. "Also, you need to get up."

Gerard looks up. "Huh? Are we late?" He stands up and starts to brush off his pants, but his hands are batted out of the way and Frank is pulling down his pants and underwear inside five seconds. Frank pushes him back up against the door, a step or two to the left of where he'd been.

"I am going to blow you so fucking hard right now," Frank says, and looks up at Gerard with dark eyes. Gerard's cock is in Frank's face, flushed dark and so fucking hard he can't think straight. He moans, and Frank reaches up and starts to jack him, and jesus fuck, just like that he's nearly fucking _there_.

Frank is stroking him slowly, leaning forward, his bare chest flushed from his own orgasm, his mouth open slightly, the tip of his tongue sticking out. He looks almost drugged, he's so into this. Gerard thinks about getting that hot mouth on his cock—all slick heat and pliant tongue—and suddenly he's coming with a cry, his hips jerking up into Frank's fist, thick stripes of come spurting across Frank's face.

As soon as he comes down, he slides down the door, laughing a little at Frank's shocked expression. "I'm sorry. It just," he trails off, reaching up to help Frank clean up. Frank laughs and just pulls up Gerard's t-shirt and wipes his face off.

"I guess it's not your fault I have magic hands." He does a little jazz hands move and laughs at Gerard's expression. "But admit it, you get off on having your jizz all over my face."

"Well, yeah." He reaches up and slides his thumb down Frank's cheek. "You look really fucking good like that."

Frank grins over at Gerard. "Noted." He stands up, reaching down to help Gerard. They adjust their clothes and then Frank grabs his hand and opens the door. Frank peeks out and pulls Gerard into the hall.

They let go of each other's hands as they walk back to the dressing room, but Gerard's pretty sure that neither of them wants to.

~~~

All the next day, Gerard thinks about rimming Frank—the noises Frank made, the way he just completely came apart under Gerard's mouth. It was different from blowing him—the push-pull of Frank fucking his mouth and Gerard pushing his hips back hard. This time, Gerard had felt completely and utterly in control, and that feeling was addictive.

All day, as they hung out with the guys while the bus hummed its way along the highways, he kept looking over at Frank and remembering exactly how it had felt. Every once in a while, Frank would look up from a game controller or his book and catch Gerard staring. Every time, he'd crack a knowing smile, one that was just for Gerard, and then he'd make a horrible face, contorting his features and sticking out his tongue. Gerard couldn't help but laugh and look back down at his sketch pad.

Now, though, the rest of the guys have gone to sleep, and Gerard and Frank are sitting on the plush couch in the back lounge, surrounded by instruments and equipment. Frank is supposedly reading while Gerard sketches, but his book has been lying idle in his lap for the past twenty minutes. His head is resting on Gerard's arm, which makes it hard to draw, but Gerard doesn't dislodge him. He's glad that Frank is resting, though his attempts to get him to actually go to bed have fallen on deaf ears.

"I like that one," Frank says, pointing to a sketch of a vampire that Gerard had been doodling in the lower corner while he thought about what he wanted to draw next for real. Vampires are totally his go-to doodle.

"Thanks," Gerard says, and starts to fill in tattoos to match Frank's on the vampire's arms. He adjusts the vamp face, too, making it prettier, giving it perfect eyebrows and hair hanging to one side. He can feel Frank's quiet laughter against his side and draws the vampire a candy box shaped like an anatomical heart and wilted flowers to hold. "He's going on a date," Gerard explains.

"Vampire prom?" Frank asks, and he snuggles closer in. He sounds sleepy, and Gerard considers asking him again if he wants to go to bed, but instead he closes the sketchbook and puts it down, capping his pen.

He settles himself more comfortably against Frank's warm side and says, as casually as possible, "I've been horny as fuck all night."

Frank sounds sleepy but intrigued, "Yeah?" He puts his hand on Gerard's belly and moves down a bit, sliding it over his cock. He's not hard—not yet—but he could get there pretty quickly.

"Mmmmm." Gerard lets out a contented noise, closing his eyes and resting his head against the back of the couch. He pushes up slightly into Frank's hand, feels himself getting harder, and Frank slides his hand up and tries to wedge his fingers under the waistband of Gerard's pants. It isn't happening, they're way too tight, and Gerard lets out a completely unsexy guffaw when he sees what Frank is trying to do.

Frank laughs too, and moves to undo the button and zip of his pants instead, but Gerard puts his hands over Frank's, stopping him. "You sure? Aren't you too tired?"

Frank's voice is bleary and contented, "'m tired, yeah, but that doesn't mean that this should go to waste." He slips his hand down over Gerard's cock again, now outlined against his pants, obvious and hard. Gerard moans softly.

"Feels good," he whispers. "But it's cool. I can just jerk off in my bunk." He leans over and kisses the top of Frank's head, "I'd say that you can listen, but I don't think you'd make it ‘til I came."

Frank lifts his head up so he's looking Gerard in the eye. "Just because I'm too si-" He stops and swallows before continuing, "tired to participate, doesn't mean I don't want to watch." His eyes are dark and his right hand is already working Gerard's pants open. "I want to watch you."

Gerard's heart beats faster. Frank's never watched him jerk off before. It feels weird to be on display like this—weird, but also kind of good. It feels new. Another thing they've never done. "Can't stop thinking about last night, after the show."

"When Ray and Bob beat Resident Evil 4?" Frank's voice is lighter now. "That was pretty awesome, yeah."

Gerard snorts and settles himself lower down on the couch, his ass on the edge of the cushion, feet braced on the floor. He brings his right hand up to his mouth and starts licking it all over, sucking the fingers in one by one, getting everything wet and slippery. He pulls out the last finger with a little pop and glances over at Frank as he reaches for his cock. Frank's gaping at him.

"Jesus fucking christ, Gerard. Is that how you—you usually," he trails off and swallows again.

"Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes I use," his voice catches as he gets his slick hand on his dick, hard and tight, "lube. I use lube. But, you know." He smiles over at Frank, bottom lip in his teeth. "I work with what I've got."

"Fuck, that's hot." Frank sounds turned on and tired all at once, and he scoots even closer so that Gerard's arm hits Frank's chest every time he jacks his cock. Frank's mouth is right up against Gerard's ear, and he whispers, "I can't stop thinking about it either."

Gerard moans at that and his cock twitches in his hand. He grips it tighter, strokes even faster. The slick spit blends with precome as he slips his thumb across the head and twists back down, and it's hot and wet and perfect. "Yeah? Tell me." He closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in the feel of his hand and the low sound of Frank's voice.

"You felt fucking incredible. Inside me like that." Frank's voice is low and dirty in his ear. "So fucking filthy." It's like porn, listening to Frank like this.

"Fucking loved it," he gasps out quietly. Gerard is jacking himself so hard and fast, he knows he's not going to last much longer. He reaches down with his other hand to touch his balls, and Frank keeps slipping words into his ear, dirty memories and promises, what he's going to do to Gerard as soon as he's not so fucking tired.

Frank's hand has slipped down to rest on his thigh, and his touch is hot, even through the fabric of Gerard's pants. "You're so fucking hot like this," he whispers, his breath warm against Gerard's ear. "Your cock looks amazing, all slick and hard. You look so fucking big. Like you could tear me apart." Frank's breath is coming out in a near-moan, and Gerard's focus has narrowed to that sound and the pressure of Frank's hand on his thigh.

Frank squeezes his thigh, just a little, and Gerard cries out softly and comes all over his own hand.

" _Fuck_ yeah," Frank breathes, and Gerard wipes his hand on his t-shirt and slumps back into the cushions. "That was fucking awesome." He coughs a little, covering it quickly with his arm.

Gerard's narrowed gaze travels over Frank's face. "I think we'd better get to bed, yeah?"

Frank yawns. "'kay, but that was awesome." He gets up slowly, stretching, letting his t-shirt ride up. "I totally want to jerk off for you sometime."

"Oh, fuck yes." Gerard is immediately distracted from his worry by that mental picture, and he doesn't realize until they're both settled into their bunks that that was maybe exactly what Frank was counting on.

~~~

The next afternoon, Bob and Ray are on their laptops and Mikey and Gerard are fighting silently over the last of the Count Chocula. Frank emerges from the bunk area, still wearing his pajamas. His eyes are only half-open and he's holding onto the doorframe.

Gerard looks pleadingly at Mikey, and Mikey rolls his eyes but then says, "You okay, Frank?"

Frank is quiet for a moment and then says, "I think I might need some Advil."

Gerard is at his side in a matter of seconds. "Why? Do you have a headache? What's going on? Maybe you should lie down." He's already throwing magazines and CDs off of the couch and shoving at Ray until he scoots over.

Frank sits down heavily and says, "I'm just tired. It's just in case, you know? I'm fine, Gerard."

Mikey brings him some Advil and Coke Zero, and Frank downs three pills quickly, passing the bottle back to Mikey. "Thanks." He stands up then and waves weakly at them. "Gonna sleep until sound check, okay?"

"Sure, man," Ray says. "Listen, are you sure you're not sick? I don't mean to get all 'Gerard' on you—"

"Hey!" Gerard says.

Ray ignores him and keeps looking at Frank. "You just seem like you might have a fever. Or something." He sounds a little sheepish.

"If you're sick you should fucking take care of yourself, Iero." Bob chimes in, and it's like music to Gerard's ears. "We'll check your gear. Just sleep 'til the show."

Frank's mouth falls into a thin line. "No. I'll be there for sound check. Who will promise to wake me up?" He glares around at all of them until Mikey finally pipes up.

"I'll do it, dude." He looks back at the rest of them, expressionless.

Frank gives Mikey a half-smile and says, " _You_ are a true friend, Mikeyway."

Gerard and Ray exchange worried looks behind Frank's back as he heads back to the bunks.

~~~

When it's time for sound check, Gerard goes to the stage with Ray and Bob, leaving Mikey to wake Frank. They're noodling around with the first song when Mikey comes striding up to the stage, walking much faster than usual. Gerard stops mid-lyric and says, "What's wrong?" He forgets that the mic is still at his lips and the question rockets around the empty auditorium.

"Uh. Frank is," Mikey looks down and shuffles his feet. "He's acting, um. Weird."

"Where is he?" Gerard asks.

"I left him in the dressing room. On the couch. I made him lie down." Mikey sounds worried.

"Okay. We need to check his setup." Gerard looks at the techs standing side-stage. "Can someone—"

"Gee, we've got this. If you want to," Ray jerks his head back in the vague direction of the dressing rooms.

Gerard is already fitting the mic back into the stand as he turns to Ray. "Thanks, dude."

"No worries. Make sure he doesn't get in any trouble back there." Ray scratches his head for a second. "And we need to figure out what to do if he can't go on."

Mikey pipes up. "Seriously. We need a backup plan." He looks at Gerard. "You'll see."

Gerard speed-walks to the dressing room door, the noise of the continued sound check behind him. He pokes his head around the doorframe, but the couch is empty. He checks the bathroom, but Frank isn't there. "Shit." He heads out the door and starts to wander the halls, calling for Frank in a low voice. He shuts up when he passes strangers, who give him weird looks even though he's not even wearing any makeup and hasn't put on his stage clothes yet.

He's cutting back toward the stage when he glances down a short hall to his left and sees a small figure huddled on the floor, up against the wall. It's Frank, and he's sitting with his knees up, arms folded around them, curled up into a ball. His head is down, and as Gerard comes nearer, he hears a muffled sound. "Frankie? Are you okay?" Frank's head comes up slowly, and his eyes are slightly unfocused. He looks miserable and oh god, he's actually crying. Gerard kneels down in front of him.

"Gee? You found me. I got lost." His voice is slow and careful.

"What happened? Mikey left you in the dressing room." He reaches out to unstick Frank's hair from his sweaty forehead. He tries not to react, but holy shit—Frank is burning up. "Why did you leave?"

Frank pulls his knees in closer, hugging his arms even tighter around them. "Mikey told me to think about happy things." He stops there, and Gerard is about to ask him another question when he continues, "So I was thinking about Harry Potter, right? And it was great, but then I remembered about the giant spiders." He ducks his head and looks down at his knees for a moment. "And like. I know they're not real. But the dressing room has all these corners. And you can't see what's in the bathroom. And I kept hearing things." He looks up at Gerard again. "So I left. I was trying to find the stage, but I got lost. So I just stayed here." Gerard sits next to him on the floor, and Frank immediately scoots closer and grabs Gerard's arm with both hands. "And then the walls started moving, so. I didn't know what to do." He sneezes and then sniffles loudly.

"It's okay Frankie. I'm here, okay?" Gerard pats his shin, which is the only part of Frank he can reach with the vice-grip that Frank has on his arm. "Why don't we get you back to the bus so you can lie down?"

"No. Gee. I have to go to sound check." Frank stands up abruptly, and Gerard almost falls over. "Come on. Now that you're here, I feel safer. I know you can protect me from the spiders." He smiles down at Gerard, and his eyes are glassy and bright. "You know all the spells."

Gerard clambers to his feet with far less grace. "Uh. Yeah. I totally know the spells, Frankie."

"I know! And also, when you're here the walls don't move so much." He starts back down the hallway, still holding onto Gerard's arm, then stops abruptly and kicks at the wall to their left. "I'm watching you, dickwad." He pulls Gerard back into the hallway and starts heading in the wrong direction.

Gerard stops and turns them around. "The stage is this way."

Frank looks at him like he hung the moon. "Your hair is full of secrets," he says in reverent tones.

Gerard rolls his eyes but smiles down at Frank anyway. "It's not _that_ big, jeez."

Frank is all smiles, but as they near the dressing room door, his face falls a little and he edges closer to Gerard. "They could still be in there," he says, keeping his voice low and clutching Gerard's arm.

"We're not going in. We're just going to the stage," Gerard says, and then mutters, "where there are reinforcements."

~~~

The four of them are standing in a semi-circle, watching Frank wander around the stage. Gerard can tell that every one of them is poised to leap forward and stop him from falling over the edge or tripping over cables or any of the other hundreds of things that could befall him in his current state. Gerard can hear him mumbling to himself, low and constant. Sometimes there are hand gestures.

"I've never seen him this bad," Ray admits. "I mean, he's always gotten sick, but," he sighs, "not like this."

Mikey says, "It's weird, but he's probably okay to play. He has this zen stage thing that happens when he plays."

Gerard looks at him incredulously as Bob breaks from the huddle and strides over to the drum riser, where Frank is poking around. "Mikes, he can't play like this. He won't go in the dressing room because he thinks there are giant spiders in there." Gerard's hand is twisting in his hair. "He thought that the walls were moving."

Ray sighs. "Okay, point. We should have the on-site medic look at him, make sure he's okay to play if he's going to insist on it."

Gerard says, "Okay. We've got an hour until the show." He looks over at Frank, who is trying to wrestle a set of drumsticks away from Bob. "He won't go to the dressing room. What should we—"

"I'll find the medic. Just take turns hanging with him in the hallways 'til then, okay?" Ray says.

"Dude, come on. I need to get warmed up for the show." They look over at Frank, who's trying to shove his hand in Bob's face and steal the sticks.

"You don't play the drums." Bob sounds incredibly calm.

"Yes I _do_." Frank says, and then stops fighting Bob so abruptly that Bob almost pushes him over. He grabs Frank by the t-shirt and holds him upright. "Look," Frank says in a hushed voice. "So _beautiful_." Everyone follows his gaze, but all Gerard sees is the faded red curtain at the side of the stage. Frank walks over to the curtain and stares up at it, his hand over his mouth.

Gerard turns to Ray. "Dude. Hurry, okay?"

~~~

They've just spent an alternately harrowing and hilarious hour shepherding Frank around the back hallways of the venue, which culminated with Frank spending 25 minutes straight staring at Ray's hair, absolutely transfixed. If Ray moved, Frank would get this (incredibly adorable, in Gerard's opinion) miffed expression on his face and say, "Stop it! You made me mess up," and then would go back to staring again.

Gerard could tell that Ray was kind of creeped out by the constant attention, but he was a good sport about it. Finally they got Frank to stop by telling him that Ray had to get ready to go on, and Frank had been so excited about the show that he'd forgotten to be upset at losing Ray's hair.

The medic had checked him out and taken his temperature, which was high but not quite trip-to-the-ER high. He had also very patiently quizzed Frank and eventually got it out of him that he'd taken a triple dose of some old flu meds that he still had from a previous illness. At that point, Gerard had had to take a quick walk up and down the hallway to calm himself down, because what the _fuck_ , Frank, _seriously_. He'd gotten back in time to see the medic shake his head but pronounce Frank okay to play as long as he drank lots of fluids, rested right after, and took the meds regularly once the current dose wore off.

Now they're all standing just offstage waiting to go on. Gerard is pacing and already sweating through his all-black outfit. Frank is fucking gorgeous as always in his white button-down with the black armband. He looks excited as hell. Gerard stops nearby and reaches out to pull Frank closer. "You okay, Frankie? Seriously, it's not too late, we can figure something out."

Frank just gives him an incredulous look. "No way am I missing this. Do you know who's out there?" Gerard just shakes his head. "The fucking _Simpsons_ , dude." Frank looks absolutely giddy. "In the front row. They look just like they do on TV."

At that moment the stage lights go down, and the rest of them walk on. Gerard stands there with his mouth open for a moment before he moves to take his place in front of the drum riser. The crowd is roaring at his back, and Gerard realizes that he'd been so worried about Frank that he'd forgotten to get nervous. The usual murder of crows start flapping about in his stomach at the thought, but Gerard looks over his shoulder and sees Frank facing the back of the stage. He's put his guitar on backwards. Mikey steps over quickly and takes it off of him. Frank seems to be fighting it, and Gerard's heart sinks. This is going to be a fucking disaster. Finally, Mikey gets Frank to accept the guitar strap and steps away just as the lights go up and they take that collective breath before hitting the opening in-your-face chords of _Venom_.

The music starts before Gerard has to sing, so he's watching as Frank lifts his chin defiantly and hits it perfectly. He's _on it_. Ray's tearing it up and Frank is exactly in sync with Mikey and Bob. Gerard is so shocked that he almost misses his cue, and he's maybe half a beat behind when he starts to sing. He keeps watching Frank as he stalks around the stage, and Frank isn't missing a single beat. He's screaming out every backing vocal and his fingers are perfectly in time as he hammers his guitar, driving the song forward.

Mid-song, he makes it over to Frank's side of the stage, and Frank looks at him while he's singing, mouth open in a wide grin. His eyes are clear and bright, and Gerard's heart skips a little at the sight. He steps forward and grabs Frank's head, pressing his forehead to Frank's and sharing the mic. Frank is still burning up. He's not better, he's just... _on_. Gerard lets go and spins away so he can watch the audience while Ray fucking shreds his solo.

They make it to the bridge, and Frank jumps up and down with Gerard and Ray and then goes down on his knees, still playing, bending back so that nothing but his feet and shoulders are on the floor. Gerard stands above him, amazed and a little turned on, seeing Frank stretched back like that, still hitting every fucking note and chord.

The rest of the show goes just as well. A few times between songs, Mikey has to pull Frank back from wandering off the side of the stage, but as soon as the music starts, Frank is fucking _on_. Every single lick and vocal. By the end of the show, Gerard has to keep reminding himself that Frank is even sick at all. A few times he exchanges incredulous looks with Ray, which dip off into fond smiles as they both look over at Frank poised at the edge of the stage, chin raised, body tight and as tall as it gets, spitting a stream of water at the crowd.

During the encore, Gerard comes over to share Frank's mic, and he spends a few verses of _Not OK_ with Frank pressed up against him, screaming the lines back at him, call and response. Frank's shirt is plastered to his sweaty chest, tattoos showing through, and his eyes are wild and bright. Gerard ducks his head for a second, heart pounding. Frank swings away to play to the amp, and Gerard catches Mikey's eye. Mikey smiles a little, and Gerard strides over to watch Ray play. He's exhausted and sweaty and his heart is fucking full.

~~~

As soon as the final lights go down, Ray heads over to help Frank take off his guitar. He's putting it down gently when Frank reaches out weakly for Ray's shoulder, and Gerard sees his knees start to buckle. He runs up and gets his arm around Frank's waist. "Ray," he says sharply. "Can we get a hand?"

Bob beats him to it, coming up on Frank's other side and taking the lion's share of his weight off of Gerard. They step off stage while it's still dark, Frank half-walking between them.

"I'm fine. Jeez. Just. When did everything start floating?" Frank's voice is cracked and small between them. "'s pretty and all, but." He stops for a moment, and Gerard looks over. Frank's looking up into his face, lips parted and eyes wide. "It's _confusing_ , Gee."

"I know, Frankie. I know." Gerard says in a soothing voice. "We're just going to get you back to the bus, okay?" He looks at Bob over Frank's head. Bob looks back, only the slightest crease in his forehead belying any worry.

~~~

They get Frank back to the bus, which luckily is parked in the back lot of the venue, off-limits to fans. They strip off his stage clothes and fold him into the bunk wearing only his briefs.

"We'll be right back, Frankie," Gerard says. "I'm going to get you some medicine to take."

Frank rolls over in the bunk and manages to contort himself so that he's half-propped against the side and back walls. He looks at Gerard, but his eyes are unfocused again. "Thanks, Gee," he says in a low voice. If Gerard didn't know better, he'd think Frank was just drunk. He seems happy, at least. He lifts a hand to gesture at the wall. "I love you." He puts his hand flat up against the wall next to his face, which is already pressed up against it. "So cool. Feels so good."

Gerard smiles a little and starts to get up, when Frank continues, "Love Gerard, too." His hand slips down until it's resting on the bunk mattress, and his eyes are closed. There's a little smile on his face. "Gerard Way."

Gerard freezes, and Frank brings his hand up to pet the wall softly. "Aw, baby. Don't be jealous. Love you both." Then he slides down so his head is on the pillow and seems to have passed out.

Gerard just stands there stupidly for a minute, looking down at Frank. Who maybe loves him. But also loves the wall. Because it's cool. He sighs and laughs at the same time and goes back to the main lounge to get the thermometer and medicine.

~~~

Frank sleeps for a day and a half straight. The guys all try to be relatively quiet at first, but when Frank shows no sign of stirring, the volume levels rise back to normal. Gerard is pretty exhausted, having spent a lot of that first night awake, sitting up in his bunk, watching Frank sleep and thinking. Every four hours, Gerard had woken Frank up and given him the pills and a glass of water.

Frank was barely awake, but he was sweet and sleepy and grateful, resting his head on Gerard's shoulder as Gerard opened the bottle of pills and shook some out. He would swallow the pills, finish the water, lean over and kiss Gerard's cheek (or his hair, or his neck—sometimes he missed), and then sink back to the pillow, all without opening his eyes once.

Twice, Gerard was there to see Frank stir, swing his legs over the side of the bunk, get up and walk unsteadily over to the bathroom. Each time, he would pee, flush, and then get right back in bed and fall back to sleep, seemingly without waking up once. The second time, Bob had been hanging with Gerard, just reading quietly while they watched over Frank. When Frank had made it back into his bunk and was tangled up in his sheets again, Bob had looked over at Gerard. "Well, that was fucking impressive."

Gerard had laughed and agreed, stretching out to rest his head on Bob's thigh and sighing. Bob had chuckled and simply said, "You got it bad."

Now it's late in the afternoon of their travel day, and Gerard has finally stopped keeping watch, though only because Mikey got Bob to physically force him to leave the bunk area. He's curled up on the couch next to Mikey, halfheartedly sketching and watching Bob and Mikey play video games. The last thing he sees before falling asleep is Mikey's avatar tearing the head off of Bob's and dancing around in the spray of blood.

~~~

Gerard jerks awake a few hours later because something is poking him in the side. He squirms and swats at it sleepily and doesn't open his eyes until he hears a familiar giggle. "Frankie?" He looks up, and sure enough, Frank is sitting next to him on the couch, grinning wide.

"Hey, Gee." Frank stops poking him and reaches over to haul him upright, putting his arm around Gerard's shoulders. "Have a good nap?"

"How are you feeling?" He can hear the worry in his voice, hates that it's there, but he can't help it. He reaches up to feel Frank's forehead.

Frank rolls his eyes but doesn't shake him off or try to pull his hand away. "I'm good. My temperature is normal. I feel totally fine."

Gerard gives him a look and says, "Forgive me if I don't necessarily believe you when you say that, mister 'The Simpsons are at our show tonight!'"

Frank looks down, his cheeks pink. "It felt so real, dude. Trippy as fuck." He lowers his voice, even though none of the other guys are around. "Thanks for taking care of me, though. Seriously." He slips down a little further on the couch, leaning his head on Gerard's arm. "You were amazing."

Gerard smiles down at Frank. He doesn't really know what to say, so he just snuggles closer, glad to have Frank back.

~~~

They're at another rest stop. This one is surrounded on three sides by thick woods, and Frank has Gerard pressed up against a tree, about twenty feet in. Their shoes crunch on the pine needles and leaves underfoot as they kiss hard and desperate, hands everywhere at once. They break apart with a gasp, and Gerard whispers, "You know that this is how people get axe-murdered, right? When they go into the woods _behind a rest stop_ to fuck around?"

Frank chuckles and slides his lips along Gerard's neck, sucking kisses hard enough to bruise. He grins up at Gerard. "I think it might be worth it, don't you?"

"Mmmm." Gerard reaches down to undo Frank's jeans, slipping his hand down to feel Frank's cock through the material. Frank moans and presses up against him. He opens Gerard's pants, and they both moan at once when they finally get their hands on each other's dicks. They jack each other slowly, and Gerard can never get used to the sense displacement of touching a cock that isn't his while someone gets him off. He groans a little and pushes his hips forward. Gerard lets go to spit in his palm and slides his fingers back around Frank's cock, hard and hot in his hand.

"Fuck. Feels fucking good," Frank whispers, his forehead on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard feels Frank swipe his thumb along the head of his cock and gasps, throwing his head back and hitting the gnarled bark of the tree.

"Ow," he spits out, but it's just an afterthought because Frank's mouth is back on his, kissing him deep, fucking him with his tongue while his hand twists and pumps Gerard's cock. It's so _much_ and unbelievably perfect after days of stressing and worrying. It's so overwhelming that Gerard keeps forgetting that his hand is on Frank's cock, his strokes slowing until he's not moving his hand at all. Frank barely seems to mind, just surges up against him, fucking the circle of Gerard's fingers while he jacks his dick fast and tight, his tongue slipping heavy against Gerard's.

When Gerard comes, it takes him by surprise. His back is solid against the tree, but everything else is Frank—Frank's tongue in his mouth and his cock fucking into Gerard's slick hand and his fingers hot and perfect around Gerard's dick. Gerard moans into Frank's mouth, thrusts frantically into his hand and just loses it, coming all over Frank's hand and his own stomach before he even realizes that it happened.

"Oh _fuck_ , Frank," he moans as Frank steps back a little and jacks him through it. He opens his eyes and sees Frank's face inches from his, eyes lit by the moonlight that filters through the trees and the lights of the rest stop parking lot.

"Hey, so," Frank says. His voice is low, and he's fidgeting with the button of Gerard's jacket. "I do, you know."

"What?" Gerard asks, his mind still sex-dumb and unable to focus.

Frank looks down for a second. Gerard still has his hand on Frank's cock, and Frank slides his dick slowly through Gerard's fist, taking a slightly shaky breath. "Love you." He looks up again.

Gerard struggles to make his brain behave and take in what Frank just said. "You do," he breathes. "Wait. You remember the thing—with the wall?"

"Well, no." Frank grins. "Bob told me."

" _Bob_ told you," Gerard says. "Do I have dick flu? Am I hallucinating right now?" He rakes his free hand through his hair. "How the fuck does Bob know?"

Frank reaches up to push the hair out of Gerard's face. "I don't think you're hallucinating." He looks around. "Unless you see the Simpsons anywhere." Gerard snorts, and Frank grins back. "Anyway, I guess he overheard. Sorry about the whole wall thing." He presses closer. "Don't worry, I told it we need to see other people."

Gerard cracks a smile and rolls his eyes. "What a relief." He looks at the trees behind Frank. "And, um. Me too." He takes a deep breath. "I mean. I love you, too. Jesus, I can say it." He grins at Frank like a dork and then tightens his grip on Frank's cock and leans down to kiss him. Frank moans softly into the kiss, rolling his hips slowly and fucking Gerard's fist.

They break apart to breathe and Frank says, "Awesome." He looks at Gerard with a slow half-smile and darkened eyes, and the mood around their tree goes from sweet to filthy in the space of about three seconds.

Gerard doesn't even think, just goes down to his knees, pushing Frank up against the tree as he goes. His dick is still out, and he spares a thought for how ridiculous he must look with his pants around his thighs and his soft cock out in the breeze. Those thoughts are pushed inexorably from his mind, however, as soon as he has Frank's cock in his mouth. He jacks it a few more times, sucking gently on the head and rolling his tongue over and around. Frank moans loudly above him and he closes his eyes, feels Frank's hand in his hair. He likes it. He likes feeling that pressure against the muscles in his neck, likes straining back against it. He moans around Frank's cock, and Frank sucks in a harsh breath.

Gerard gets his hands on Frank's hips and takes him in deep, letting the head of Frank's cock almost bump the back of his throat. He sucks as he's pulling off and runs his tongue soft and slow along the vein on the underside. Frank's hand pulls up into a fist, tugging on Gerard's hair. Gerard pushes back against it and moans again. He deliberately slides his hands away from Frank's hips and back around to his ass, pulling him forward. Frank takes a minute to get it, but soon enough he's rolling his hips, fucking Gerard's mouth, his hand still fisted tight in Gerard's hair.

"Holy fucking _shit_ , Gerard," Frank gasps out above him. Gerard just lets go, letting himself feel the heavy slide, taste the bitter salt of precome on his tongue. "Jesus—fucking—" Frank spits out, and Gerard can feel that he's holding back a little. Frank is just making noise now, low and constant, and he's speeding up his thrusts, hips stuttering out of rhythm, and then he's crying out and coming down Gerard's throat. Gerard slides back and swallows it all, his hands still holding Frank's sides. Frank pulls back and out of Gerard's mouth with a wet sound. Gerard has drool and spit all over his mouth and down his chin, and he leans forward and wipes his face on the thigh of Frank's jeans.

Frank is still breathing hard, leaning against the tree. His dick is shiny in the lights from the parking lot, and Gerard leans back on his heels and looks up at him. Frank reaches down and helps haul Gerard up, and the second he's on his feet again, Frank is kissing him deep and hard. When he finally breaks off so that they can both breathe, he says, "Jesus, Gerard. That was. I mean. _Fuck_."

Gerard giggles. "You're so coherent after you come." He winds his fingers into Frank's hair and pulls him into another kiss. This one is slower and softer than the others. He takes his time, feeling the give of Frank's lips, letting his tongue explore. His own lips feel used and slightly sore. He likes that. Loves the reminder of where they've been.

When they break apart, Frank looks a little stunned. "If I could get hard again right now." He reaches down to put away his dick and start fastening his jeans. "I fucking would." He reaches over and starts to help Gerard, who has apparently decided to leave his cock out for all eternity. "Just from that."

Gerard bats his hands away and finishes zipping up his own pants. He smiles at Frank. "Me too."

Frank reaches down and picks up the plastic bag that he'd unceremoniously dropped earlier at the base of the tree. "So, before we got distracted, I got a present for you." He fishes around in the bag and comes out with a metal object, which he hands to Gerard.

Gerard steps back so that he can use the light from the parking lot to see. He turns it over in his hands, and then laughs. "It's a can opener."

Frank says, "You know. In case you want to make soup." He watches as Gerard sticks it in his pocket and then says, "And I promise I'll eat it, okay?"

Gerard grins and says, "Whatever, lazy-ass. Make your own damn soup." He grabs Frank's hand and tugs him back toward the bus.

 

The End


End file.
